


(Not) Broken

by snowdropintheheart



Series: Omegle Struggles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All in the terms of age of consent, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, In case you were wondering, John is 28, M/M, Recovery, Sherlock is a senior, Student Sherlock, Teacher John, Teacher-Student Relationship, at least in my country, which makes him 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdropintheheart/pseuds/snowdropintheheart
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a high school senior, who happens to be a genius. He is a pain in the arse to all of his teachers, mostly Dr. Watson, who happens to be an army doctor that is recently invalided. But it's not all of it. Not at all.





	

**Your paper was due yesterday. JW**

_You are stating the obvious, Dr. Watson. SH_

**Well, why don't I have it then if it's so obvious? JW**

_I am busy. SH_

**Ah. Too 'busy' for school? Mr. Holmes. You're smart. You could do that paper in a few hours. JW**

_The topic is dull and almost as boring as your class. SH_  
_And I know we share the sentiment. SH_

**Even if it might be boring, you still have to do it, and I still have to teach it Mr. Holmes. JW**

_Why do you keep doing it, Dr. Watson? SH_  
_Teaching definetely doesn't suit you. You hate it. SH_

**Stop analyzing me Mr. Holmes. JW**  
**I'll give you until tomorrow to do the paper, if not, I'm lowering your grade. JW**

_This is not a threat. SH_

**No. It's a policy. We need to get the papers handed in. JW**

_Not before Friday. SH_  
_You are trying to prove your authority. Missing being a soldier, Captain? SH_

[delayed] **That's none of your business. How did you know anyway? And I'm the one giving- I'm the one in charge. JW**

_Obvious. Your hair, the way you move yourself, tan lines. Army doctor. SH_  
_Of course, you are. SH_  
_You are only obsessed with my because I resist to go under your command. SH_  
_But believe me, Dr. Watson, under the right circumstances I can be very... compliant. SH_

[delayed] **This is unacceptable behaviour Mr. Holmes. I'm working late. Come to my office immediately and bring your unfinished paper with you. JW**

_Oh, are you going to punish me, Dr. Watson? SH_

**Office. Now. JW**

Sherlock streched on his chair before standing up with a smug smile on his face, it was a matter of time that _"Captain Watson"_ reaching his limit and decide to give Sherlock _what he deserved_. He grabbed his bag, fixed his shirt and went to Dr. Watson's office, it was working smoothly so far. Sherlock was doing everything he could do to drive ex-soldier crazy, not finishing papers, insults during his lesson, sitting in the back row with a cynical smile on his face.  
He knocked the door three times before going in.  
  
When John heard the knocks, he instantly stood up. He had had enough with the young man. He had never had anyone act the way Mr. Holmes did during classes, and he had tried taking it up with him several times but had only been brushed away before. This time he'd had enough. "Sit down." He said and nodded to one of the desks that was closest to his own.  
  
Sherlock obeyed silently, not seperating his gaze even for a second from his teacher. The man was short, but compact and wellbuilt, always hiding behind those hideous jumpers. Today he was wearing that oatmeal jumper, which made him look incredibly benign and calm, but it was quite opposite the truth. Sherlock was fascinated by him endlessly, but he had no intention to show it before... well. He kept looking at ex-soldier in the eye.  
  
John walked up to Sherlock with firm steps, reaching down to grab Sherlock's bag. He rummaged through it, finding the paper which only had a smug sounding title on the top. He practically smashed the paper down on the desk in front of Sherlock and then gently laid down a pen. "Begin." He said and walked back to his own desk. "Neither you, or myself are going to leave this room until you've finished Mr. Holmes. And I prefer it if you didn't speak either." He said, his voice deep, calm, but still very determined. Sherlock could be so manipulative. And it was difficult not to fall for it since he was one of the most gorgeous young men in the class. But John tried to disregard that, it wasn't his place to even think that way. He licked his lips, his eyes firmly planted on Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock smirked as his eyes followed his teacher's tongue tracing his lips. He shrugged and grabbed the pen, he liked the way how John sounded so determined, and Sherlock could tell that he really would wait for him to finish. They would see, then, they had lots of time to spend together. He calmly wrote an introductury sentence for his paper, then stopped and slowly placed his hands under his chin with a toughtful look on his face, like writing a paper for his class was the hardest problem he ever faced.  
  
John huffed and rolled his eyes. "Come on _genius_. You can't fool me. Get to it. I want to get home in time for my late night tea." He said and looked at Sherlock with determination. He knew Sherlock was just pulling his leg, playing with him, he could see it on the smirk on his face. He had learned a lot of Sherlock's many facial features. Well, more like variations of a few facial features after all.  
  
" _Due to my superior intelligence, I am thinking so many things at the same time, which makes it harder for me to adapt to rest of the society and the school environment_." Sherlock quoted John's exact sentence from "the little chat" he had with Sherlock's mother a month ago, which John probably thought Sherlock had no idea about. "I need time to _think_ , Dr. Watson. I was hoping you could be... understanding towards me." he added innocently.  
  
John face flushed a bit as he heard those words being spoken back to him, knowing exactly when and to whom he had said them before. He had to break eyecontact this time, and looked through the window. Really, he was doing Sherlock a favour by telling his mother that, and really it was a compliment. He wasn't sure if Sherlock had picked up on that, probably not. The intelligence the man had in subjects such as biology, math and chemistry, he lacked in the more social areas, human interaction and emotions. "Alright then. Carry on." He said, his voice a bit more soft this time.  
  
Sherlock watched his words having effect on his teacher with a pleasure, corner of his mouth curling slightly. He wrote another sentence without seperating his eyes on John, he was looking through the window now. That was what Sherlock did, stepping in people's comfort zone without asking. The difference with this man was, the fact that he wasn't in a comfort zone at all, but he was pretending like he was. "You could do better." he said with a steady voice.  
  
John frowned and looked back at Sherlock. "What?" He asked and furrowed his brows. "I could do what better?" He asked again, not quite sure what his student meant. He had felt Sherlock's piercing gaze on him the entire time as he looked out the window. It didn't help much, and Sherlock had a way of making him feel vulnerable. And he hated that. He hated it with a passion. Nothing should be able to bring him such vulnerability. Sherlock think he's so smart but he has no clue what John had gone through while in the army he thought and reached to his shoulder to rub his scar gently.  
  
"Your life. You were in Afghanistan, everyone was thinking it was dreadful, but you weren't. Even your therapist, you have a psychosomatic limp, of course you have a therapist, but she is wrong. She thinks you are haunted by memories of war, but she is wrong." He inhaled deeply, "You are not haunted by war, you are missing it. Danger, blood pumping through your veins. Adrenaline." He smirked, the man was an open book, yet he was a mystery at the same time. "This job, teaching, school, students, they are _killing_ you, Dr. Watson. You would do anything to have a glimpse of danger in your life." He pointed doctor's cane with a smile. "You were so furious with me, you forgot your cane when you opened the door."  
  
John listened, his face one of shock when Sherlock spoke, but then it turned to anger as he looked towards the cane. He stood up and began slowly walking towards Sherlock. "You think you are _so_ clever." He said and licked his lips. "You think you know everything there is to know about life. You think you know how everyone thinks and feels, but you don't. You are a young man, you've barely lived your life and then you come here and try to tell me how I think?" John said angrily, his voice strained. Sherlock was right, of course, but he wouldn't admit it in a million years. "Even if it was so, even if it is _killing_ me. I have no other option." He leaned onto Sherlock's desk and looked deeply into his eyes. "Mr. Holmes, if you want to still have me as a teacher I suggest you stop speaking like this. I am ill, I'm haunted by the memories, I am, they are hurtful, even though you believe they are not. I gave you a chance, but we're done here. Please leave."  
  
"Okay." Sherlock answered quitely, standing up slowly, but his gaze still fixed on his teacher. His anger was, somehow hurtful, but not expected. It was indicating that Sherlock was, indeed, right, but then, he rarely wasn't. People didn't like it, it was perfectly normal that John didn't, too but then, he hoped that it could be... well. Different. He was taller than John, he had to bow his head slightly to keep his eyes on John's face. Their faces were really close, John leaning on his desk and Sherlock tilting his head towards him. When finally their noses were touching, "You are not broken, John." he whispered. He knew that he was crossing a line, but it didn't stop him. He gently but firmly pressed his lips onto John's.  
  
For some reason, John stayed still, letting Sherlock move towards him. And he moved close. Very close. John didn't want to flinch, Sherlock wasn't going to win this time. He was just about to speak up when Sherlock did. His face softened and he furrowed his brows slightly. Not broken? He thought... He thought he was more than broken, beyond repair even. What did Sherlock see that he didn't? He was just about to speak once again but he was quickly stopped by soft lips pressed onto his own. His eyes fluttered closed at first, but then he pulled back with a gasp. "N-No. No this is- This is unacceptable. Sherlock- You- Mr. Holmes-" John began to stutter, feeling a bit faint.  
  
After John pulled back, Sherlock could feel that his lips were burning. He wanted it to last longer, but John wasn't that kind of man, strong moral principles, nerves of steel. "Do you think I care about what is acceptable?" he hissed, suddenly feeling tense under John's shocked gaze. "Why do you think I am here, John? Because I care about my grades? Or I am afraid that you will call my mother again?" He smirked nervously. "I am not a child, John. I know what I want."  
  
John was breathing heavily, looking at Sherlock with a confused look. "What- Why- Why are you here then?" He said, without really stopping to think. "Sherlock, why... Why have you tortured me so? Why have you been a sodding twat during my lessons? Why?" He asked, wanting to know, wanting desperately to know why he had been treated like that. "Sherlock. I know you are not a child. But a childish person also know what he or she wants." He said firmly.  
  
"Oh. So you think I am childish?" Sherlock spilled, as he quickly undid the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the marks on his arms. It had been almost a year since he stopped dancing with illegal chemical substances and he wasn't even sure why he was doing that, but John... He was touching a nerve of Sherlock he didn't even know that it existed. "You think I don't understand what is like to suffer. You think I have no idea about what it is like to wake up every bloody morning and-" He stopped. It was too much. Surprisingly, so. "I was a _sodding twat_ , as you gracefully put it, because I didn't know how to get close to you. I wanted-" He inhaled deeply. "You were right. I should go." He grabbed his bag and walked towards the door.  
  
John looked once again in shock at Sherlock's arms. He listened, wanting to ask the young man to share more when he stopped. But he knew he had to change his behaviour to be able to helpt. As Sherlock continued, he found himself blushing again. He wanted to get close? Of course Sherlock didn't know how. With brisk steps he walked to the door and closed it with a bang. He turned off the lights in his office to make sure no one would spot them as he then pushed Sherlock to the door and pressed his lips against the young man's lips. He did it hard, sloppily, needily, and he had to turn off every thing in his brain that was yelling at him to stop. That he wasn't allowed. That it wasn't good. Because for him, God it felt good. He wanted to do everything for Sherlock. He wanted to teach him everything, he wanted to hold him, he wanted to keep him away from drugs, he wanted to assure the man that everything was going to be alright. This was a start, at least. After a few moments of desperate kissing, he pulled back and looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes in the darkness. "This stays between you and me." He murmured softly, almost whispering. "Do you like tea?" He asked, smiling sheepishly.  
  
Sherlock recoiled how fast John moved, and suddenly it was dark, he was pressed against the door and John's lips were on his. It wasn't gentle, it was hard, insistent, a little moan escaped from Sherlock's lips. He didn't do _that_ , this, he didn't care about it, not until John. His arms slowly wrapped themselves around John as he was feeling dizzy, his knees shaking, God, it was embarrassing. And it was good. Even better than cocaine. He tried to reciprocate the kiss as the best he could. When John finally broke this kiss, he was out of breath. "Yes." he whispered, trying to ignore the burning feeling between his legs. His arms were still around John.  
  
John smiled and cupped Sherlock's cheek. He gently pressed his lower half against Sherlock's, biting his lip with a grin. "I'm sure you know where my flat is?" He murmured softly. "I leave first. You calm yourself a bit, you can't walk out with _that_ right now." He said, teasingly pressing his own groin against Sherlock's much harder one. "See you soon." He said and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's cheek before going back to take his suitcase and walked out the door, leaving Sherlock in the dark. He felt different. He felt strong. He felt... Alive. This was exciting. Just what he needed. Sherlock was exciting. He rushed to his car through the halls to get home and prepare for Sherlock's arrival.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my drug. And I hope stranger's, too. Thank you for reading. :)


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